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This week’s Torah portion tells us of the last days of Jacob, the third of our forefathers. When it was clear that Jacob did not have much longer to live, Jacob’s son Joseph brought his own adult sons, Ephraim and Manasseh, to visit their grandfather for the last time. Jacob took this visit as an opportunity to bless his grandchildren. Though the custom when giving a blessing to two people at once was to place the right hand on the head of the older person and the left hand on the head of the younger person, Jacob did the opposite. He placed his right hand on the head of Ephraim, the younger of the two brothers, and his left hand on the head of Manasseh, the older brother. Joseph, thinking his father had made a mistake, tried correcting him, but Jacob told him that it was no mistake. He had seen prophetically that though great people would descend from both of these grandsons, the descendants of Ephraim would be greater. He therefore accorded Ephraim the honor generally given to the older sibling.
The Torah then records the blessing that Jacob proceeded to give Ephraim and Manasseh: “By you shall Israel bless, saying, ‘May God make you like Ephraim and Manasseh.’” The blessing that Jacob was giving to his grandsons was that all future generation would bless their children that they grow up to be like Ephraim and Manasseh. Jacob’s blessing has been and continues to be fulfilled. To this day, when Jewish parents give their sons a blessing, either weekly on Friday night or annually before Yom Kippur, the text of the traditional blessing is, “May God make you like Ephraim and Manasseh.”
Why is this so? We bless our daughters that they should follow in the footsteps of our glorious Matriarchs (“May God make you like Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah”), so why did Jacob not want us to bless our sons that they follow in the path of our Patriarchs? What is unique about Ephraim and Manasseh that Jacob was essentially hoping and praying that all of his male descendants should follow in the path of these two grandchildren of his? Continue reading Parshat Vayechi – Peace: The Ultimate Blessing
In another few months, we will reach the holiday of Passover, celebrating our redemption from Egyptian slavery. We will spend two long seder nights amid eight complete days thanking God for liberating us from the terrible oppression that we faced in Egypt. But wait a second – who sent us down there in the first place? Jacob and his children emigrate from Canaan (Israel) to Egypt in this week’s parshah, and the Torah is very clear that God wanted them to go. As a matter of fact, two generations earlier God had already informed Abraham that his children would be exiled to Egypt and that it would be there that they would develop from just a family into an entire nation. Why did we ever have to leave Canaan? Why couldn’t we transition into nationhood in our own land? 
It is not uncommon for us to find ourselves in situations where if we would simply fudge the truth, things would work out more conveniently. It is extremely tempting to give in to that little voice claiming that it would not be such a big deal. It is especially hard to resist this impulse when we are trying to be good citizens and help someone else out. After all, giving in to that temptation to not be totally honest can help us accomplish more good in the world. Is it really so bad to fudge the truth just a little bit? Is a little white lie really so terrible?
He responded to her advances, “Potiphar gave me his full trust. He appointed me as the head steward of the entire household and has never turned down a request of mine. How, then, can I perpetuate this great evil and sin against God?”
Dealing with problems is an inevitable part of life. Difficulties come up on a regular basis in one’s marriage, with one’s children, at work, and basically in every situation and relationship in which one may find himself. At times it seems that as soon as we finish dealing with one crisis, another one has arisen. We may become depressed and overwhelmed, feeling that we are more often than not simply ‘putting out fires’ as opposed to making any real progress. How can we survive? More than that, how can we make sure that we are steadily moving along the path of success?
In this week’s Torah portion, we read about an interesting conflict between Jacob and the guardian angel of Esau. The Torah tells us that one evening, when Jacob ventured out alone to recover some lost jars, Esau’s guardian angel took the opportunity to start a fight with him. They fought throughout the night. By the time morning came, Jacob had the angel in a hold. When the sun rose, the angel requested that Jacob let him go, explaining that every angel has an appointed time to sing shirah, praise, to God, and his time had arrived. 
The Oxford Dictionary provides two definitions for the word ‘Jew’, one the verb form and one the noun form. Even in this age of political correctness, ‘Jew’ in the verb form is defined as “Bargain with someone in a miserly or petty way”. Parenthetically, one would expect that this usage of the word would have ended with the Middle Ages, or at the very least with the end of the Holocaust. Unfortunately, its presence in the Oxford Dictionary shows us that anti-Semitism is still alive and well.
A turning point in our history was when Esau sold the rights of the firstborn to our forefather Jacob, his younger brother, in this week’s parshah. The Torah describes how Jacob was in middle of cooking lentil stew when Esau entered the home, famished. He asked Jacob for some of the lentil stew and Jacob responded that he would sell it to Esau in exchange for the rights of the firstborn. Esau immediately agreed, and the Torah tells us, “He ate and drank, got up and went. Thus did Esau spurn the birthright.”
This birthright of the firstborn was not any material benefit. Jacob gained no physical preference or advantage; on the contrary, Esau became a prominent prince, while Jacob was still suffering as a shepherd for Laban. This special birthright was, rather, strictly about the spiritual leadership of the family. Bartering such a prodigious spiritual privilege for some mere soup showed a repudiation of the birthright.